


No Fate Awaits Me Without You

by glamour_weeb



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alpha Shiro (Voltron), Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Royalty, Fantasy Racism, Galra Keith (Voltron), M/M, Omega Keith (Voltron), Rating May Change, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-26
Updated: 2017-08-23
Packaged: 2018-08-27 02:13:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 17,504
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8384029
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/glamour_weeb/pseuds/glamour_weeb
Summary: Prince Keith has spent the majority of his life confined to the highest tower of the Galra Empire's mightiest fortress. Until the day it's overrun by soldiers of the Voltron Alliance. Their leader has an interesting proposal for Keith.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I love Galra!Keith, I'm a sucker for omegaverse, and I've been playing a lot of Fire Emblem so naturally this happened.
> 
> There are very brief mentions of rape in this chapter but there is no actual rape in this fic, which is why I didn't tag for it. Just be aware that it's there. Also a minor OC but like, she's not important and probably won't be mentioned again. She's just there because I didn't want to make one of the main cast Keith's Galra servant. The rest of the cast will show up soon. 
> 
> No Beta, all mistakes are mine, etc. Title comes from No Fate Awaits Me by Son Lux.

The forces of the Voltron Alliance have breached the castle walls. It is only a matter of time until they reach the throne room, to face Keith’s father, Emperor Zarkon. It seems likely that the Alliance will win, given that they’ve sacked the city. No matter how strong Zarkon is, he cannot possibly defeat an entire army on his own. Still, Keith can hardly believe they’ve made it this far. He can hear the sounds of the battle echoing through the halls below the tower, where he’s been sequestered most of his life.

Once upon a time, Keith had been the pride of the Empire and his father. He was taught swordplay, battle tactics, and horse riding. His father had even promised to personally instruct Keith in sparring, until the day he’d presented as an omega. Keith will never forget the look on his father’s face when he smelled the scent of Keith’s first heat. Horror, fury, disappointment. Keith was meant to be an alpha, a strong, fearless leader to carry on the Empire in Zarkon’s name. Instead, he was weak, a fragile little omega, not fit for the throne. From then on, his father had barely been able to stand the sight of him. He banished Keith, his heir, his only child, to the highest tower of the castle, where Keith was given lessons on singing, dancing, and sewing, the only skills deemed suitable for noble omegas. Keith was never to touch a sword again. He’d been left to rot in his tower until his father could negotiate a suitable match for him. 

Until today. Now, Keith watched with vindictive pleasure as his father’s castle was plundered, the legacy he’d cared about more than his own son torn to ribbons in a matter of hours by the Alliance he’d loathed so much. Keith could almost enjoy the sight, if not for his inevitable doom. For as soon as his father was defeated, Keith was certain he’d be discovered, and if the tales of Galra’s conquests were to be believed, it never ended well for omegas on the losing side. He was Zarkon’s only heir and an omega. He’d be lucky if he were simply executed without suffering the indignity of being raped first, or worse, kept as a pleasure slave for one of the victors. There were some fates worse than death. 

Keith and his remaining omega in waiting, Lisette, the only one who had not fled after the castle walls had first been breached, did their best to secure the room. It was a futile effort – an armoire and a vanity shoved in front of the door would only buy them a few extra seconds of freedom. Even now, they could hear voices echoing through the stone hallways, the shouts carrying up becoming clearer and louder the closer they drew, so close now they could hear the rattle of armor and weapons, the scrape of boots on the stone steps that spiraled up Keith’s tower. 

Suddenly, there was a bang on the door. Keith and Lisette jumped at the sound and retreated to the farthest side of the room. The banging continued, the wood of the door splintering. Keith suddenly regretted not telling Lisette to run when they still had the chance. She was the only one who stayed, out of loyalty to him, and it was going to get her killed. She shook like a leaf in the wind, wide-eyed with terror, and clutched at Keith’s silks as the door splintered from the force of the alphas breaking it down. Keith snarled and drew his dagger, pulling Lisette behind him. “M-milord, you mustn’t!” She gasped, tugging on his sleeve. 

“I must. It is my duty as a Prince to protect my subjects,” he growled. Her eyes welled with tears and he felt her forehead rest against his back. “I’m sorry I couldn’t do more for you, Lisette. You were always kind to me,” he murmured as the door was breached. The sound of her gentle sobs were drowned out by the noise of the door splintering off its hinges. The armoire and the vanity were knocked to the side as a company of Alliance soldiers forced their way in. Keith snarled again and gripped the dagger tighter. Perhaps he should have used the dagger on himself and Lisette instead, he thought with dismay, as he laid eyes on what was clearly the leader of the Alliance forces. 

He was human, and though Keith had never met one before, he understood that their race was unpredictable, ruled by their fierce and wild emotions, rather than the cool, superior logic of the Galra. He was an alpha (of course), tall and broad shouldered, made even bigger by the intricate, heavy armor of a general. It must have been beautiful once, a work of art forged in glimmering silver, but it was battered and bloody now. Keith could just make out the design of a black lion etched onto the chest, under all the dirt and blood. His eyes flicked up to the alpha’s face. Dark hair with a shocking white forelock nearly fell into his surprisingly kind, coal-dark eyes, and a scar across his nose, and he had a strong, chiseled jaw. Keith would have found him handsome, if not for the fact that he was about to kill him. 

The soldiers that accompanied the Alliance general fell silent upon breaching the room, lowering their weapons. Their leader stepped forward, his face serious and solemn, and Keith snarled once more, warning him away. Lisette clung all the more tightly to him and cried silently. The alpha drew his heavy broadsword, fresh with what Keith could smell was his father’s blood, and Keith braced himself for a fight to the death. Instead, the alpha surprised him, dropping to one knee and presented the sword to Keith with both hands, his head bowed, the back of his neck exposed and vulnerable. Keith nearly dropped his dagger in shock. 

No self-respecting Galra soldier, much less a general, would ever expose such a vulnerability, especially not to an omega. Omegas were the ones who were expected to bow and scrape. This act was not only a sign of respect but of trust, trust that Keith would not bury his dagger in the back of this alpha’s skull. It was downright submissive and Keith was at a loss as to what he should do. He was the omega Prince on the losing side. He should be the one showing submission. All of his lessons, all of his training on court etiquette and none of it had prepared Keith for this moment. “W-what are you doing?” He croaked in disbelief. 

The alpha did not look up as he replied but his words were loud and clear in the deafening silence of the room. “Prince Keith, I am Takashi Shirogane, the Black Paladin, leader of the Voltron Alliance and King of Terra. I offer you my sword, in the hope that you may favor me with your hand.” 

This time, Keith really did lose his grip on his dagger. It clattered to the floor, unnoticed, as he stared at the human alpha, this Takashi Shirogane, with eyes wide as saucers. 

“You’re – you’re asking me to marry you?!”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much to anyone who read, left kudos, or commented on this fic!! Your lovely comments and encouragement really inspired me to work on this chapter, as well as an outline and flesh out some world building details. 
> 
> I can't take credit for the idea of the Asura, that comes from the game Guild Wars 2 (lmao I'm such a nerd and this fic is such a mess of ideas slapped together from different fantasy fiction). Just, don't google what they look like because that's not how I imagine Pidge. She literally looks the same, just tweaked slightly.

With every step, Shiro’s armor clanked and the sound rang through the grand marble hallways of the Altean castle, echoing down the wide, open-aired hallways and soaring ceilings. He had come to the elven capital, Voltron, at the request of Queen Allura. Her missive stated that Chancellor Pidge had a plan that would secure peace between the Alliance and the Galra Empire. She did not give details but Shiro knew that when Pidge had an idea, it was best to listen to her. Pidge was an Asuran, an incredibly intelligent and cunning race known for their magical inventions. Pidge was the representative of her race in the Voltron Alliance because she was the brightest of them all. The youngest Chancellor to ever win her title, her inventions were both revolutionary and terrifying; the designs of her artillery were a sight to behold on the battlefield. 

He reached the towering double doors, heavy oak carved with ancient, intricate elven designs. Shiro pushed them open and was surprised to find the chamber empty save Chancellor Pidge and Queen Allura, seated at the round stone table that took up most of the room. 

“Shiro!” Pidge cried cheerily, waving at him from across the room. As an Asuran, she was naturally tiny but the size of the big oak chair she was sitting in made her look even smaller. Other than her short stature, the only other thing that set her apart from humans were her big, round eyes and the bat-like ears poking out of her sandy hair. 

He smiled warmly and greeted her with a formal bow. “Milady, it is a pleasure, as always,” he said.

She snorted. “Oh please, we’re alone, dispense with the formalities! You don’t mind, do you, Allura?” she asked, turning to the elven Queen. 

“No, not at all,” Allura said, shaking her head. “Honestly, it’s a relief to speak so casually for once. The assault on Galra is almost upon us and I’ve been dealing with foreign dignitaries every day for the last fortnight,” she grumbled. “It’s been a nightmare trying to keep straight all the different court etiquette each meeting requires.”

“As you wish,” Shiro said, though he couldn’t stop himself from giving them a polite nod before taking a seat at the table. Shiro often found it difficult to stop himself from using formal gestures and speech since it had been drilled into him from a young age. Nothing was more important for a future king to learn than proper court etiquette, especially when saying or doing the wrong thing at any given moment could lead to social ruin. 

“Where is everyone else?” he asked. 

Normally when one of the members of the Voltron Alliance called a meeting, every member was expected to attend. Of course, that didn’t stop some of their more carefree members from skipping meetings, so Shiro was unsurprised to see that Prince Lance was absent. Probably out gallivanting on that great ship he loved so much. Shiro was surprised that Prime Minister Hunk was absent, though, as he was generally much more reliable than his best friend. 

“Lance and Hunk are preparing their ships for war and that requires an extra two weeks away from the Alliance before the assault,” Pidge answered. 

“Yes, it is very convenient that they could not be here, almost as if someone had planned it,” Allura said drily, gazing pointedly at Pidge. 

Shiro frowned. So there was something that the Queen and the Chancellor wished to discuss with him, but not Hunk and Lance? He was both intrigued and wary. “What is all this about?” he asked at last. “Allura’s missive stated you had some plan for peace, Pidge, but I thought we finalized plans for the assault months ago?” 

“Ahem, yes, well, this is a plan for after the assault,” Pidge began, pushing her big, round glasses up her nose, a sign that she was about to launch into a lengthy explanation. “As you both know, defeating Emperor Zarkon is our primary objective. However, I believe we need to make arrangements for what to do after we defeat him. We cannot simply defeat him then leave; we’ll be creating a power vacuum and it will result in chaos if not handled properly. We need to ensure that the next leader of Galra is not another Zarkon or we’ll find ourselves at war again. Luckily, I have come up with solution. This is where you come in, Shiro." 

“Me? What, you want me to rule Galra as well as Terra? Pidge, I don’t think that’s a good idea. The Galrans will not accept me and besides, shouldn’t this be a decision agreed upon by all members of the Alliance?”

“You misunderstand, Shiro. I am not proposing that you should rule Galra. At least, not alone,” Pidge said, adjusting her glasses. 

Shiro frowned. “Not alone? Pidge, what do you mean?” 

“Zarkon has an heir, Shiro, an omega prince. Little is known about the prince but surely you must have heard of him,” Pidge said, staring down her nose at him. She seemed to think that this was hint enough but Shiro could not understand what the Galra prince had to do with anything. He was an omega and omegas were not allowed to rule in Galra. 

“Yes, of course,” he answered. Of course Shiro had heard of him. The ‘Jewel of the Galra’, a prince so beautiful that Zarkon kept him confined for most of his life, for his own protection and to keep him ‘pure’. The Alliance spy network had infiltrated Zarkon’s castle, thanks in large part to the ability of the Alteans to shape shift, but they had gleaned little more information on the prince other than confirming he was a great beauty and that he appeared haughty and spoiled. 

Shiro felt a little sorry for him. As the future king of Terra, he’d been raised with excessive precautions and protections as well, but at least he’d been allowed to travel and learn about the world when he was old enough. The Galra prince might have appeared spoiled but he had not been allowed such a simple luxury and Shiro could not imagine how painful and lonely it must have been to grow up in almost total isolation. “But what does he have to do with this? He cannot rule; the Galra would never accept an omega as their king,” Shiro pointed out. 

“They would not accept him _without a mate_ ,” Pidge emphasized and Shiro’s stomach flipped. It wasn’t hard to put the pieces together and guess what she was about to say. “You are the only member of royalty of the Voltron Alliance not yet wed. A union between the royalty of Galra and Terra would ensure peace for decades. If successful, it could bring an end to the hostilities forever.”

Somehow, Shiro felt that he should have expected this. It seemed like the obvious solution now that Pidge laid it out so plainly, her logic as airtight and sound as usual. But Shiro could not help but balk at the idea. “You want me to marry the Galran prince? Are you mad?!” 

“Not at all,” she said evenly, folding her nimble fingers together on the great stone table in front of her. “It is our best option. We could leave him to fend for himself, but you know what the Galra do to defeated omegas. He’ll be killed, or worse. He may have grown up incredibly sheltered but I’m sure he’s learned a thing or two at court about what happens to defeated omegas in Galra. Once Zarkon is dead, he’ll understand the position he’s in and I believe he will listen to reason.”

“And if he doesn’t?” Shiro asked. He couldn’t imagine the prince accepting his proposal. The Galra thought themselves a race superior to all others. 

“You must make him see reason, Shiro,” Pidge stressed. “Explain to him that this is the best option, for all of us. If he doesn’t agree…well, let’s hope it doesn’t come to that.”

Shiro shifted in his seat, uncomfortable. “Pidge, I understand the logic of your plan but this is wrong. It would be dishonorable to coerce a vulnerable omega into marriage and threaten to kill him if he refuses. That’s…I can’t do that,” he said, gazing pleadingly into her eyes, begging her to understand.

Pidge sighed. “I had a feeling you wouldn’t want to do it. Listen, I don’t like the idea either, but what other choice do we have, Shiro? We cannot afford to leave Galra in turmoil once Zarkon is defeated!” she said passionately, banging her tiny fist on the stone table.

“Peace, peace!” Allura finally spoke up. “Pidge, I understand your passion and your dedication but we cannot ask Shiro to dishonor himself and we will not force the prince into anything,” she said with an air of finality, giving Pidge a hard look when she opened her mouth to protest. “We would never ask that of you,” Allura said, turning to Shiro. “We are asking you to propose to him. Present it as you would an earnest offer of marriage. He is proud, so you must win his favor. Prostrate yourself before him and speak of the benefits that would come to both your nations from this union. Treat him with respect and there will be no need for threats.” 

“Shiro,” Allura’s voice softened, “we understand that this is a lot to accept and that it is asking for a great sacrifice, on your part. As royalty, we always hope to marry for love but understand that more often than not, the good of our people comes before our personal desires. We do not ask this lightly. If there were another way, we would not have approached you. Please, at least consider it. We will not hold it against you if you decide you cannot marry him but…please, just think about it,” Allura implored him. 

Shiro looked down at his hands, at the heavy ring he wore, worn and silver, a lion etched onto the surface. It was his father’s before it passed to him and before that, it was his grandfather’s. It had been passed down for generations through the royal family of Terra and it was a symbol of his duty. Allura’s words struck a chord within him. He had always known he would have to marry for the sake of a political alliance, he just didn’t think that the day he would have to do so would come so soon, or in the form of a Galran prince. But now that he’d gotten over the initial shock, he could see that Pidge and Allura were right. 

This was the best option, for all of them, even the Galran prince. Shiro did not know him, hardly knew anything about him, but he couldn’t help but feel protective of him. Maybe it was the instinctive alpha reaction to protect any omega, even a Galran. Or maybe it was just that Shiro felt sorry for him. He’d been kept isolated and alone all his life to be used as a bargaining chip, first by his father and now by the Alliance. Shiro had no illusions about their marriage; if the prince even agreed, it would not be one of love, and he may even come to hate Shiro, but at least he could keep the prince safe.

“It’s…alright,” he said finally. “I’ll do it.” He lifted his head high, meeting first Allura, then Pidge’s eyes. “I will ask him to marry me and I will do everything in my power to convince him to say yes.”

“That is all we ask,” Allura replied, breathing a sigh of relief. 

Pidge’s eyes gleamed with a bitter satisfaction, her mouth set in a hard line. “Thank you, my friend,” she said. 

“I am truly sorry we had to ask this of you, Shiro,” Allura said softly. 

He sighed. “Milady, I cannot say I am overjoyed and truthfully, I still think it a mad idea, but…I see no other way to ensure peace. It is as Pidge said. We need a binding alliance with Galra, one that cannot be retracted, and the Prince needs a mate. If this is what it takes to make sure we never have to lose another parent, another friend, or another subject to this senseless war, then I will gladly do it,” he declared. “I do not begrudge either of you for coming to me with this. So there is no need to apologize,” he added gently. 

Allura sniffled and ducked her head to discreetly wipe at her eyes. “Thank you, Shiro. You are a good man and a fine king,” she said solemnly. Pidge nodded fiercely in agreement, her eyes shining brighter than usual with unshed tears.

“Thank you, milady,” Shiro said with a weary smile. “If that is all, I will take my leave. I would like to be alone with my thoughts.” He got up to leave but Pidge interrupted him.

“Wait!” she called. “There is one last thing, Shiro. The Galra respect displays of strength and power. Traditionally, Galra suitors prove their worth by fighting and killing any rivals. Then they present their sword to their intended. As far as I know, Zarkon has not yet finalized a match for the prince. However, there is no love lost between the prince and his father. Since you will be spearheading our ground forces, you’ll be taking on Zarkon yourself. Kill him and present your sword to the prince when you make your proposal.”

Shiro stared at her, disbelieving. “You think he’ll be more inclined to say yes if I kill his father for him?” 

She nodded, her face grim. “Trust me, he will be glad to see his jailer dead. It may win you a little favor with him and you’re going to need all the help you can get.” 

* * *

“You’re – you’re asking me to marry you?!”

“Yes,” Shiro replied, calmly and simply. 

“Why?!” The Galra Prince nearly shrieked. He sounded nearly hysterical.

Finally, Shiro looked up at him, but remained kneeling. Though he was tired, his grip on his sword never wavered and he continued to hold the bloody thing up in offering. “Well, milord, I think it would be best to bring Galra into the Voltron Alliance through a peaceful union, rather than continue this needless bloodshed. A union between our houses would benefit us both, as I will explain, if you will permit me,” Shiro said, willing himself to stop his eyes from roaming the prince’s pleasing form. The last thing he wanted to do was offend him but the rumors of his beauty did not do him justice. 

Those in the Alliance said the Galra were monstrous, hulking purple creatures covered in fur or scales, with fangs and claws and evil, glowing yellow eyes. And most of the Galra Shiro fought that day did indeed fit that description but Galra or not, the prince was undeniably beautiful. He had purple fur and his eyes did glow, but he was not a hulking monster. He was lithe and lean, with a mop of inky dark hair parted around two adorable, rounded ears on the top of his head that flicked and swiveled restlessly. His features were all refined, high cheekbones, sharp eyes, and pouty, bow shaped lips that flashed sharp little canines when he spoke. And gods, his scent. All the way up the tower, Shiro had caught whiffs of that incredible scent and, like static electricity, it made the hairs on his body stand on end. Shiro could see now why Zarkon had been so concerned about keeping him pure. 

The prince regarded him warily, his pretty, golden eyes narrowed in distrust, but then he jerked his chin and ordered imperiously, “Rise, milord, let me hear your proposal. I will decide if you are worthy.” 

Shiro let out a tiny sigh of relief as he got to this feet. At least the prince was willing to hear him out. Perhaps Pidge was right and he would listen to reason. With a quick prayer to whatever gods were listening, Shiro launched into his proposal. 

“As I said, our marriage would mean an alliance between Terra and Galra and it would bring an end to this senseless war. It would end the suffering of both our people. It is no secret that Galra has been nearly depleted of all its resources due to decades of war. I understand that is why your father led your people to conquer other nations in the first place, but if you agree to my proposal, they will no longer have to fight just to sustain themselves. Terra and the other countries of the Voltron Alliance would provide resources and open trade to Galra. In return, Galra can provide its skilled soldiers for protection to some of the smaller nations in the Alliance, as well as your artisans and craftsman. I understand your armor and weapon smiths are the best in the world. Your people can use their talents for more than just making war,” Shiro finished softly. 

He saw the prince’s eyes soften, just a little. If the way he fiercely guarded his omega in waiting was any indication, the prince cared about his people, even if he’d never been allowed to see them. But then he crossed his arms and stared down his nose at Shiro haughtily. 

“You’ve painted quite a pretty picture with that silver tongue of yours,” he sneered. “But I would be a fool to take you at your word. A peaceful union? Do not jest with me, sir. Humans are little more than barbarians and I have no doubt you’d have me killed before the wedding bells stopped ringing. If I am to die, I would rather you do it now and be done with it.” 

Shiro gaped. The prince was not at all how he imagined him. Barbed tongue and spiteful, he was nothing like the delicate, sheltered omega the Alliance led him to believe. Shiro had to bite his tongue and remind himself that the prince was only lashing out because he was cornered and afraid. Losing his temper now would only confirm what the prince believed to be true about humans. 

“Milord, I pledge on my life, no harm will befall you if you agree to my proposal,” Shiro said, careful to keep his voice calm and even. “There would be no greater dishonor to me than failing to protect my mate and the very thought of harming you…frankly, it sickens me,” he said earnestly. “Forgive me if I am out of line, but whatever you have heard about humans, it is untrue. If you agree to marry me, I will take you from this place and you can see the truth of this for yourself.” 

The prince’s golden eyes studied Shiro’s face carefully, as though he were searching for something. Shiro kept quiet, his gaze steady. Finally, the prince uncrossed his arms and let them drop to his sides with a sigh, the fight draining out of his body. He turned his face away to stare out the window. “I suppose…you have a point. I have not left the castle since I was a boy,” he said listlessly. “I have not met a human before today. I cannot say with certainty that you are telling the truth but I…if it means I might leave this place…” he trailed off in a whisper, a look of pure longing on his face. 

Shiro felt his heart ache terribly. The prince was so desperate to escape and see the world he was seriously considering marrying someone he thought wanted him dead.

The prince turned his golden eyes back to Shiro. He drew himself up and squared his shoulders, then reached for the sword Shiro held in his hands and plucked it from his grasp. The prince held it daintily, his clawed fingers curled carefully around the grip of the blade. “King Takashi of Terra, I accept your proposal, on the condition that before we are wed, you will sign a binding agreement guaranteeing the trade and protection of my people that you have offered, even should one or both of us die,” he declared. 

Shiro nodded faintly, hardly believing that this was really happening, that his proposal had really worked. “Milord, you honor me beyond words. I swear on my life that I will do everything I can to make you happy,” he said with a deep bow. He missed the look of surprise that flitted across the prince’s face at his promise to make him happy. When he straightened, he gave the prince a tentative smile. “Forgive me, milord, but I do not know your name. It seems wrong that I do not know the name of my intended.” 

The Prince looked like he wanted to keep silent out of spite, that haughty look back on his face, but at last he relented. “I am Keith of House Zarkon, High Prince of Galra, and Heir to the Empire. And I will not forgive you, King Takashi Shirogane of Terra, for taking advantage of me in defeat.” Prince Keith stepped closer, until he was almost toe to toe with Shiro. “I will warn you now, if you intend to take my title and my land by force, I will fight you until my dying breath. I will not allow you to harm my people any further. They have suffered enough for my father’s arrogance and greed,” he hissed in Shiro’s face, his golden eyes flashing dangerously. 

Shiro stood rooted to his spot, stunned. Prince Keith was, impossibly, even more beautiful in his fierceness. “I would never dream of such a thing, my Prince,” Shiro murmured. 

“See that you don’t, or I swear you won’t live to regret it,” the Prince growled, stomping past him. 

Shiro stared after him, wondering just what he had gotten himself into. Prince Keith stopped in the doorway and looked back at Shiro over his shoulder.

“Well? Aren’t you coming? I believe you promised to take me away from this place,” he snapped. 

“Yes, of course, my Prince,” Shiro said faintly, turning to follow the Prince out of his prison.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Keith thinks he's tough but he's about as intimidating as an angry kitten. Also, joke's on him because Shiro is super into feisty omegas.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *rises from the ashes like a phoenix* this fic isn't dead and neither am I! 
> 
> I'm so sorry this chapter took so long, I honestly didn't mean to leave it for so long but after posting the first two chapters, I got caught up with work and then the holidays and it turns out, writing is hard??? Honestly, I've had portions of this chapter written for a long time but I couldn't figure out how to make it flow. Idk, I'm still not entirely happy with it but I also suffer from crippling perfectionism and I'm tired of looking at it soooo ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯
> 
> I'm not giving up on this fic but just fair warning, updates are probably not going to be any faster. I don't want to disappoint anyone but this is just something I do for fun so please bear with me, I will do my best to update faster but I also don't want to make promises I can't keep. 
> 
> Finally, last thing, I swear - there are a lot of pov changes and I tried to make that clear with titles or lack thereof, hopefully it's not too confusing with all the King Takashi's changing to Shiro and then back again, why did I choose to write this way rip me

One of Keith’s favorite places in the castle is an out of the way corridor lined with portraits. He’s forbidden from leaving his tower but he sneaks down here as often as he can. His father is rarely in the castle these days and as long as he keeps his head covered, no one will recognize him. Keith makes his way down the deserted hall slowly, his eyes roving over the portraits of his ancestors, until he comes to a stop in front of his favorite one. He leans against the opposite wall and slides down until he’s seated on the floor. He pulls his knees up towards his chest and wraps his arms around his legs, like he’s trying to hold himself together, and stares up at his favorite painting of his mother. 

It’s a painting of the two of them. She stands tall and elegant, poised gracefully, the queen’s coronet nestled in her braided, pitch black hair. A young Keith, probably around four or five, holds her hand and stands solemnly next to her. Keith’s memories that far back are kind of fuzzy but he distinctly remembers that he spent more time hiding behind his mother’s skirts, staring out sullenly at the painter, than he did posing next to her. He remembers because his father had gotten so fed up with him that he’d roared at Keith to act like a proper alpha and threatened to strike him. His mother, brave and beautiful, put herself fearlessly between them and stared his father down until he backed away. 

She was always his champion, his protector whenever his father was in a particularly nasty mood. But Keith knows that even if she were here now, she would not be able to save him from his fate. She might have been able to offer him words of comfort but even the queen could not save him from a loveless marriage. It’s his duty, his only purpose, as his father has informed him countless times since Keith awakened from his first heat, to wed the alpha his father chooses and produce many heirs. And now he’s just been told that the search for his suitor has begun in earnest. A gift, his father had sneered down at him, for his seventeenth birthday. “You should consider it a great honor, to bear the future heirs of the empire. It is the only thing you are good for, after all.”

Keith escaped his tower as soon as he could after that meeting with his father. He misses his mother terribly in moments like these and he wishes she were still alive to give him guidance. He wonders what she would say to him now, if she would be just as disappointed in him as his father has been, if she too would look down on him as little more than a glorified brood mare. He wishes he was still a child, that he might crawl into her warm, loving arms and feel her hands running through his hair as she spoke words of comfort to him, just one more time. 

Keith feels tears sting his eyes and he screws them shut, letting his head fall back against the stone wall. It’s pointless to cry, he reminds himself. He could cry an ocean of tears and it would still not change what he is – a pawn with no control or power in the game he’s about to be thrust into against his will.

* * *

Two years later, Keith stalked past the very same portrait that once gave him comfort. The human king and his soldiers followed him, marching down the flagstone steps spiraling down to the base of the castle tower. Keith’s shoulders were tense and drawn up, but he stared resolutely forward, as though having a strange alpha at his back was nothing. Inside, however, he was panicking. Adrenalin and anger had made him brash and reckless. He’d just snapped at the alpha that defeated his father, conquered his homeland, and claimed his hand all in one day. Honestly, Keith expected an immediate punishment for talking back to the human alpha. Lower class omegas could be killed for such disrespect, he knew. He’d seen it happen.

The lack of punishment made Keith tense and paranoid, waiting for the other shoe to drop. Perhaps the kind of punishment the human king had in mind wasn’t meant for others to see. Keith shuddered, glancing back at the king over his shoulder. Keith had learned enough from the whispers of his omegas in waiting to know that it might be preferable to be struck dead than torn apart by him later in his bedchamber. 

Shiro followed Prince Keith down the stairs. He smelled the anxiety in the omega’s scent, but wisely chose not to comment on it. He didn’t think the prince would listen to any reassurances he could offer anyways. 

They reached the bottom of the stairs and made their way through the great, gloomy hallways of the Galra castle, made of dark stone and lit by strange, purple torches that cast everything in an eerie glow. The sound of the Alliance soldiers’ armor was muffled by the thick, deep purple carpeting. 

Prince Keith finally broke the tense silence and spoke without turning around. “You said you were going to take me away from this place. Does that mean you intend to take me to Terra?”  
“Yes,” Shiro replied. “As soon as we have things settled here, we will take a ship to Terra. We will be wed there, ideally as soon as possible, to solidify this alliance.” 

Prince Keith finally graced him with a glance thrown over his narrow shoulder. “How am I, I mean, how are we, supposed to rule Galra if we aren’t even in the country?” he asked incredulously.  
“A fair question,” Shiro said patiently. “We will leave a regent here in our place, someone loyal to you who will act in our stead. Do you have anyone in mind for the position?” Shiro frowned when the Prince laughed bitterly.

“A Galra noble, loyal to me, an omega? You humans certainly have a dry sense of humor!” 

“Surely there must be someone you can trust,” Shiro insisted. 

The Prince turned his face away and Shiro could no longer make out his expression with his face hidden in the shadows cast by the low lighting. 

“There is,” Prince Keith agreed. “My uncle, if he wasn’t killed in all the fighting.” 

“If he is still alive, he’ll be in the Great Hall. That’s where my men are holding all the captive nobles.” Shiro said and the Prince nodded. “We’re almost there, it’s just through here,” he said, gesturing to a set of great double doors which lead to the Throne Room, if Shiro remembered correctly. Shiro turned to the Prince, who was quiet, his jaw clenched. The air was thick with the stench of blood. 

Shiro hesitated. “Is there perhaps another way through to the Great Hall?” he asked. The Prince shook his head no. “It is fine. I have seen bloodshed before, I do not need to be coddled,” Prince Keith snapped impatiently. 

Shiro frowned. It was his understanding that the Prince had not seen combat before. Whatever the Prince had been exposed to, surely it could not have been as ugly as the scene waiting for them just beyond the towering doors. 

“My prince, you do not need to see this,” Shiro urged him. 

“Why, because I am an omega?” Prince Keith hissed, his lovely golden eyes narrowed. Shiro shook his head. “No, because he was your father,” he replied.

“All the more reason I should see this,” the prince muttered and he shoved the double doors open. He tread carefully over the fallen soldiers, both Alliance and Galra, their corpses still cooling, dark blood seeping into the plush purple carpet leading up to the throne. 

Prince Keith came to a halt in the middle of the dim hall, next to his father’s corpse. Even in death, he was looming and larger than life. Shiro stole a glance at the prince’s face but his expression was difficult to decipher. Obviously his relationship with his father had been extremely complicated. 

Keith reached out towards his father with a shaking hand, but withdrew it after the slightest touch, shocked. It was one thing to hear of his father’s death but it was entirely different seeing his body lying still and lifeless on the floor. His fingertips came away stained with dark violet blood and he brought them, trembling, to his lips in a gesture of horror, his eyes wide, the gold of them strobing violently. 

Shiro could stand it no longer. “Come away,” he said gently, laying a gently hand over the Prince’s eyes. “You don’t need to see this,” he repeated softly in Prince Keith’s ear, his lips brushing against the soft, lilac fur. He could feel tears under the palm he held against the Prince’s eyes. He clutched at Shiro blindly, letting himself be led away. Shiro knew it was ironic to comfort Prince Keith when he was the cause of his grief, but the prince had no one else, and Shiro could not bear to see him suffer, so he drew the prince into his arms and held him, rubbing his back as he sobbed quietly. 

Keith barely registered the arms around him, contending instead with the emotional turmoil within himself. On the one hand, his father had been little more than his warden, his jailer and tormentor for the last six years of his life. On the other hand, he was Keith’s father. He’d always been harsh, but there had been a time when he’d looked at Keith with pride and even doted on him. Even in his darkest days, when Keith thought it was not possible to hate a person more than he hated his father, deep down he had always cherished those fond memories of his childhood and yearned for nothing more than to make his father proud. Now he was gone forever and Keith was free, but still he mourned the loss of the only father he’d ever known.

After a few minutes, Prince Keith pulled away and wiped his eyes. He gathered himself with a few deep breaths, then turned on his heel and strode from the room, his head ducked, leaving a trail of bloody boot prints for Shiro to follow. Shiro and the rest of his retinue trotted behind him, trying to keep up. 

At the entrance of the castle, the Great Hall, the rest of Shiro’s company held a group of Galra soldiers and nobles captive. One such noble, middle aged, slim and refined, dressed in the gleaming black armor of a Galra lord, lurched forward, shouting for Prince Keith’s attention.

“Prince Keith, milord, thank goodness you yet live!” 

Prince Keith’s eyes went wide with surprise. “Uncle!” He rounded on the Alliance soldiers restraining the Galra noble. “Unhand him at once!” he ordered. The startled Alliance soldiers glanced at Shiro and he gave them a nod. They released the Galra noble and he stumbled forward to kneel before them, his head bowed. 

“My dearest nephew, I am pleased beyond words to see you are still alive. When I saw the Alliance soldiers headed toward your tower, I feared the worst,” his shoulders shook slightly and he was too choked up to continue. 

Prince Keith laid a gentle hand on his shoulder. “It is alright, uncle,” he reassured him quietly. “I am fine. I am pleased to see you unharmed as well.” 

“Please rise, uncle,” Prince Keith said. “I have urgent business to discuss with you and my…betrothed,” he stumbled over the last word and tried not to grimace. 

The noble’s gaze darted between Prince Keith and Shiro, his golden eyes widening slightly. “I see, well…congratulations, your highness,” he said, frowning a little. 

“Thank you,” Keith grit out. He gestured for the king and his uncle to follow him, and he led them to the Court Chambers just off the Great Hall. A few of the king’s soldiers followed after them and posted themselves just inside the doorway, on guard. Keith gestured for King Takashi to take the seat at the head of the black, polished stone table, his father’s old spot, and took a seat beside him. Traditionally, Keith wouldn’t have even been allowed in the room, much less a seat at the Court’s table, but neither his uncle nor the king said a word about it. 

“Uncle, this is my fiancé, King Takashi Shirogane of Terra, the Black Paladin and Leader of the Voltron Alliance forces,” Keith introduced him after they were seated and the king inclined his head politely. “King Takashi, this is my uncle, Lord Thace of House Marmora, he is their representative on the Court.” Thace bowed his head towards the king. 

“It is an honor to meet the man who has freed my countrymen from the tyranny of Emperor Zarkon,” he said. “I must also thank you, from the bottom of my heart, for freeing my nephew. He is the only family I have left and I would pledge my life to yours in return for saving his. You have done what I could not.” Shiro was shocked at his declaration and the depth of the sincerity in his voice. He expected Lord Thace to hate him, or at the very least, mistrust him. 

“I admit, I am surprised to find an ally in you, Lord Thace. I thought the Galra were united under Emperor Zarkon” Shiro said carefully. It would be a great boon to find allies within Galra but Shiro was not so naïve as to trust a man he’d only just met. 

Lord Thace inclined his head. “Yes, that is what Zarkon would have the rest of the world believe. That is what we, the resistance, had Zarkon believe as well. We could not oppose him outright but we have done what we can from within, what little it has been,” Thace said with a frown. “Our numbers are small but House Marmora will pledge itself to your cause. We wish to be allies, King Takashi, as long as you promise to rule us with a fair and even hand.” 

“That is most gracious, Lord Thace,” Shiro said, his heart thumping faster in his chest. He wished to trust Lord Thace but the war had made Shiro a cautious man. In a foreign land, fresh from a fight, surrounded by hostile Galra, and with no guidance from the Alliance, Shiro was unsure who to trust. He glanced to the side and caught Prince Keith’s eye. His eyes widened a little, as though surprised that Shiro would even consider him, before he slowly, almost imperceptibly, nodded. Shiro decided to go with his instinct. It had rarely failed him before and it was telling him now that the prince and Lord Thace could be trusted. 

“The Voltron Alliance will gladly welcome your support,” Shiro announced confidently. Lord Thace grinned at him. “It is a relief to hear it. We will make arrangements to hammer out the details of the terms of our newfound alliance at another time, perhaps, if you are in agreement?” Thace asked. 

Shiro nodded. “Of course, we will welcome House Marmora and the resistance at the peace treaty negotiations with Galra. We can discuss the matter then,” he said. 

“Excellent. Now,” Lord Thace said and glanced towards the prince. “My dear nephew, you said you had something you wished to discuss?”

“Yes,” Keith said, clearing his throat. He was surprised that his uncle was welcoming him to speak but tried not to let it show. He had to show confidence and competence at this meeting if he wanted any chance of ruling Galra. He’d already slipped up earlier when he’d had that obscene display of emotion over his father’s corpse. Another display of weakness like that and Keith might as well admit that his father had been right, that omegas were too frail and emotional to rule. “Yes, my _fiancé_ ,” and here Keith shot the king a dark look, “and I wish to leave a regent here in Galra, to rule in our stead.”

Thace nodded along. “Yes, quite sensible,” he agreed. “Whoever did you have in mind?”

“Well,” Keith said, “that’s just the thing, Uncle. I put your name forward,” he said, a little smile curling his lips.

“Me?” 

“Yes,” Shiro said, leaning forward. “My Prince speaks quite highly of you, Lord Thace, I can think of no higher praise than that,” he said sincerely. Prince Keith whipped his head around to stare at Shiro in shock. Thace too seemed stunned. The opinions of omegas in Galra had not mattered before today. 

Shiro continued, “If my intended endorses you, that is all the convincing I need. If you would do us the honor of serving as our regent, I would be most grateful. Prince Keith and I wish to be wed in Terra as soon as possible, but of course we needed to be sure Galra would be in safe hands before we could leave.”

“This is most unexpected,” Thace admitted. “Of course I am honored and I will do my best to carry out your wishes, your majesty,” he said, inclining his head once again in Shiro’s direction, “but if f I may be frank, your majesty, the other lords will not like it. It will be challenging to maintain order in your absence.” 

“The other lords will not accept me because I am a human?” Shiro guessed.

“That will be part of it,” Lord Thace admitted. 

“My father and his followers believe that the Galra are a superior race and as such have every right to rule over the lesser races,” Keith tried to word it as delicately as possible, but there was no denying that racism and prejudice ran rampant through the empire, thanks in no small part to Zarkon’s propaganda. 

“However,” Keith continued, “you defeated my father in combat, so it is your right to rule. That is Galra law. The members of the Court won’t be able to challenge it, you have the proof of your victory on your blade,” he said, eying the bloody sword the king had sheathed at his hip. “Even if they don’t like it, the Galra respect strength. The problem is not just that you are human, but that you want peace,” Keith said, his tone turning bitter. “They will see that as a sign of weakness. My father and his court made a great deal of profit from their conquests and they have convinced the entire empire that farmers and traders are weak. ‘The strong do not work the fields when they can take what they need by force’. I am no Seer, but I have no doubts you will face several challengers.”

“Well, I expected as much. Every new regime faces resistance, after all,” Shiro pointed out blithely.  
Prince Keith glanced at him from the corners of his eyes and Shiro could not understand the almost sympathetic look he gave him until he elaborated. “I meant literal challengers. Duels, to the death, for the right to rule.”

Shiro balked at this. “Surely you can’t be serious?” 

“As I said, the Galra respect strength. If you are too weak to defend your crown, you are unfit to wear it,” Prince Keith sniffed airily. 

Shiro turned over this way of thinking in his head. At first, it seemed totally barbaric, but he supposed it was almost elegant in its simplicity. A leader did have to be strong to keep their power and defend their people, but this way of thinking, of valuing martial strength above all else, left little room for other kinds of strength, like that of the power of persuasion or the mind. He said as much to the Prince, curious to see his reaction. 

Keith was surprised that an alpha would even consider other kinds of strength. It was, of course, a thought he’d had himself, many times over the years. Keith was not physically strong, but magic ran through his veins, he was incredibly clever and had a knack for strategy. Once, when he could take his father’s criticisms no longer, Keith had said as much. Of course, his father responded by back handing him across the face for his insolence. 

“You’re right, of course,” Keith answered demurely, inclining his head to the king. It was always safe to agree with an alpha but Keith was not sure how much more he should say or what would offend the king. “Most of the nobles rely on strength but quick feet and an even quicker mind are more than a match for such opponents, given the opportunity,” he added, carefully gauging King Takashi’s reaction. Keith nearly jumped out of his skin when the king laughed. “Apologies, I did not mean to startle you,” King Takashi said. “It’s just, you sound very much like a dear friend of mine. I think you would like her,” he explained, smiling gently. 

Keith offered his own fleeting smile. “Perhaps I might meet her, one day,” he said. 

Shiro's smile widened. “I’ve no doubt you will meet her shortly.” After all, Pidge had been leading the brunt of their artillery forces. She was bound to be around here somewhere, likely digging through the castle’s library or laboratories. She’d been dying to get her hands on some of the Galra’s weapon schematics. 

Lord Thace cleared his throat, interrupting Shiro’s thoughts. “Your majesty, if I may make a suggestion?” he asked. The king inclined his head, inviting him to continue. “You could leave an occupying force in Galra. It is not ideal, but it may be the only way to maintain order,” he said. “At least, for a time. Once you and my nephew are wed and the alliance secured, things will settle down. Over time, we can win over some of the more reluctant members of the Court and remove those who would plot against us. I am sure that once the people know peace once more, they will come to accept the new order.” 

Shiro sighed and looked to Prince Keith, holding his golden gaze as he spoke. “I did not want to leave an occupying force in Galra. I did not want to anger the people of Galra further or disappoint the Alliance soldiers who wish to return home to their loved ones. But if you think it is best, I will give the order,” he said, searching Prince Keith’s gaze. 

Keith was shocked. An alpha seeking approval from an omega was unheard of in Galra society. Alphas were supposed to be strong, decisive. They made the decisions and omegas followed them without question. That King Takashi had even asked for his opinion at all was enough to shock Keith, but he could tell from the earnestness in the King’s dark eyes that he would listen to Keith’s opinion and take it to heart. He wondered how much of this was calculated. Was this a hollow gesture, designed to appease Keith, or was this the true nature of this strange, human alpha? Could it be possible that he truly saw Keith as his equal, a partner, and not just a pawn? 

“I…,” the prince started, then hesitated. He glanced up at Shiro from under his thick, dark lashes, his golden eyes burning. When he realized what he’d done, the Prince whipped his head away, his cheeks tinted a slightly darker purple in a faint blush and his ears lying nearly flat back against his head. Shiro could tell the Prince was annoyed with himself for seeking Shiro’s approval to lead, for falling victim to that knee-jerk, omega reaction to seek reassurance from an alpha. 

Keith cleared his throat, his cheeks still heated. “I – I agree,” he said quietly, his eyes firmly on his hands, clasped in his lap. Distantly, he was aware of his uncle and the king continuing their discussion. Keith, however, was quite occupied with quieting the pounding of his heart that had started ever since he’d made the mistake of looking the King directly in the eye. All he’d seen was kindness and understanding, yet it set his heart racing. 

Keith closed his eyes and took a deep breath, which did nothing to calm him. Gods, King Takashi’s scent was so much more overbearing than he’d expected. And they were sitting so close together. Why did he have to be so close? Keith had never been this close to an alpha that wasn’t related to him, and for so long too. The longer this meeting dragged on, the more agitated Keith felt. He fidgeted restlessly in his seat. He wanted this to be over, he wanted to get away from this handsome, kind alpha that made him feel so, so...

“…eith? Prince Keith?” 

Keith jolted out of his reverie. King Takashi was addressing him and both he and his uncle were staring at him, concern written on their faces. Keith flushed again.

“Are you quite alright?” Shiro asked him. He’d noticed the prince’s scent growing more agitated as he withdrew from the conversation entirely. Shiro’s eyes flickered to him from time to time, but carried on until he’d been unable to ignore it any longer. Prince Keith was stock still except for his ears, which swiveled and twitched restlessly. He was poised at the edge of his seat as if he was going to bolt at any second. His glowing, golden eyes, wide and fearful, met Shiro’s for a moment, before his gaze dropped back down to his lap. 

“Yes, I’m quite alright,” Prince Keith echoed him faintly, locks of his inky black hair falling across his face, hiding it from Shiro’s view. 

Shiro's heart ached; he wanted to be the alpha the Prince could rely on but he also understood the Prince had no such desire to rely on him. He’d been controlled by an alpha his whole life, it wasn’t hard to imagine that he’d be revolted at the idea of relying on another alpha now, or ever again. Still, Shiro couldn’t help but feel relieved that he wasn’t the only one who was nervous.

Right now, Prince Keith was floundering a little, and Shiro found it both endearing and heartbreaking to watch. Shiro wanted to help but had no idea how to do it without offending him. If he stepped in now and took over the proceedings, Prince Keith would resent him for it. Besides, he wanted to make it clear in this meeting that he intended to make Keith his equal in everything, to include him in all the decisions regarding Galra. 

“Perhaps that’s enough for now,” Shiro said delicately. “We can continue this discussion at the peace summit.” He got to his feet and the prince and his uncle stood as well. Before they reached the door, Thace spoke up.

“If you would indulge me, I would like to speak to my dear nephew before you depart,” he said.  
Shiro nodded. “Oh, of course, please, take all the time you need. My prince, I will wait for you in the Great Hall,” he added before slipping out the door. 

“Uncle?” Keith prompted Thace as soon as they were alone.

“My dear boy, let me get a look at you,” his uncle said, smiling fondly at him, before surprising Keith with a warm embrace. It was so shocking and so different than the cold treatment he’d come to expect from his father that it made him tear up. 

When he pulled away, Keith was rapidly blinking away the tears threatening to from in his eyes. Thace reached out a hand to grip Keith’s shoulder, giving it a squeeze. “You have grown into a strong, fine young man,” he said. “I have missed you terribly. Gods, you look so much like your mother,” he said, smiling sadly. Keith hiccuped a shaky laugh. “Thank you, uncle,” he said.

“Keith, I hope you can forgive me. I swore an oath to your mother that I would do everything I could to protect you, but I have failed.”

“Uncle, you didn’t,” Keith started but Thace shook his head.

“I did,” he insisted. “Zarkon made it difficult, keeping you from me all these years, but that is a poor excuse. I should have done more. I should have taken you away the moment your mother was killed…I should have…,” he trailed off, then shook his head. “Well, there is much I should have done. Keith,” he said, staring imploringly into his nephew’s eyes, “I have been able to do very little, but I would not hesitate to lay down my life for yours. You are not just my nephew, you are my prince, and soon you will be my king.” 

Keith could hold back his tears no longer. No one had pledged their fealty to him since he was a boy. No one believed he had a right to rule once he presented as an omega. He turned his head away, trying to hide his tears as he wiped hastily at his eyes, almost angrily. “I am sorry, forgive me, uncle, this is so, unbecoming,” he hiccuped. Thace smiled gently at him. “It is not a weakness to cry,” he said softly. 

“That’s…,” Keith trailed off. _That’s what mother used to say._ Keith shut his eyes as fresh tears sprung to his eyes. Gods, he missed her so much. 

“Keith,” his uncle spoke again, his voice gentle. He waited until Keith was able to meet his gaze again before unsheathing the dagger at his hip. “This was your mother’s. She wanted you to have it. I have been holding on to it for you, waiting for this moment. It’s yours now. The Blade of Marmora is with you, wherever you go,” he said, pressing the dagger gently into Keith’s hands. 

Keith held the blade up and the light caught on the insignia of the House of Marmora etched just below the hilt of the dagger. “Thank you, uncle,” he murmured. He sheathed the dagger at his hip. He’d have more time to examine it later. Keith glanced at the door. “I suppose I must go,” he sighed. 

Thace nodded. “You mustn’t keep your fiancé waiting,” he agreed. Keith made a face and Thace laughed. “Aw, cheer up, my boy! He seems like a fine man.” 

“Perhaps, for a human,” Keith said with a grimace. Thace frowned. “Now I know you don’t mean that, that’s your father talking,” he said sternly. 

“Yes, of course, you’re right,” Keith sighed, running a hand through his hair. “It’s just…he forced my hand, I don’t have a choice but to marry him now.” 

“Hmm,” Thace hummed, frowning. It’s what he suspected but it was still distasteful, to corner a defeated omega like that. Still, he could have done worse, much worse than propose to his nephew, so he was willing to give the human king the benefit of the doubt. “Well, you know, Keith, we of noble blood seldom have a choice in these matters. If it hadn’t been him, it would have been someone else, I’m afraid to say. It’s done now, so the best thing you can do now is give the man a chance.”

Keith snorted. “A chance to gut me in my sleep and steal my throne, you mean?”

“He wouldn’t dare,” Thace growled, his eyes flashing dangerously. “He doesn’t strike me as the type but I swear, if he harms a hair on your head, I won’t stop until he’s in pieces. I’ll make sure he understands that, before you go.” 

“That…actually makes me feel a little better,” Keith laughed a little. 

Thace smiled warmly and clapped a hand on Keith’s shoulder. “Then good luck, dear nephew. If there is anything you need, anything at all, do not hesitate to call on me. Please write, as soon as you can, so I know you’re safe,” he added. Keith nodded. “Of course, uncle,” he said as they walked toward the door and reentered the Great Hall. King Takashi stood off a ways, waiting for them. 

“Are you ready to go, my prince?” he asked, smiling gently as they approached. 

“One moment, if you may,” Thace spoke up. “There’s a matter we must discuss before you depart. In private,” he said, gesturing to the side. 

“Certainly,” the king said agreeably, following Thace out of earshot.

“Your majesty, I believe you are a man of honor,” Thace began. “You have defeated Zarkon and freed my people, as well as my nephew. You refrained from taking him when you had the chance and have instead offered him a place at your side.”

“But?” Shiro prompted him.

Thace sighed and bowed his head. “But I must have your word that you will not harm him, that you will protect him, with your life if it comes down to it. He is the only family I have left. I love him dearly and should any harm come to him, I will personally hold you responsible,” he said, lifting his head to stare into Shiro’s eyes. His burning gaze spoke volumes, untold threats were promised in those eyes, and it almost made Shiro shudder. He’d faced many enemies this day but none quite as intimidating as this protective uncle. 

“I understand,” Shiro said solemnly. “I swear on my life, no harm will come to Prince Keith.” 

“Then we have an understanding,” Lord Thace said and when Shiro nodded, Thace visibly relaxed. “Well, I’m glad to hear it.” 

Thace and Shiro began walking back towards the prince when Thace spoke up once more. “Oh, your majesty, just one more thing,” he said in a tone of false innocence. Shiro halted and slowly turned back towards him, a feeling of dread pooling in his gut. “I speak now not as a diplomat, but as an uncle. My nephew is an innocent. He’s led a sheltered life, one of virtue. He is not educated in the ways of this world, or in matters of the heart.” He stepped towards Shiro, his golden eyes going flat, the light in them dimming. “Make no mistake, he is not some common omega whore, a plaything to amuse you and warm your bed. He is our prince, the Jewel of the Galra, and you _will_ give him the respect he deserves. If you sully him, if you break his heart, I will rip yours from your chest while it still beats,” he hissed. “Am I making myself perfectly clear?”

“Crystal,” Shiro answered faintly. _Gods,_ Shiro thought, _I think I’d rather face Zarkon again than face his wrath._ He cleared his throat and said in a stronger voice, “Lord Thace, I assure you, I would never dream of sullying Prince Keith and I will treat him with the utmost care and respect. He will rule beside me as an equal, I swear. Please believe me when I say my intentions are pure.”

Thace’s cold gaze bore into him for a few moments longer before he gave a curt nod. “I’ll take you at your word, for now. I expect regular reports, in my nephew’s hand. If he writes that you have mistreated him in anyway, I will bring the full might of the Galra Empire down on your head,” he swore.

“I would expect nothing less, but I promise you, it will not be necessary,” Shiro reiterated. 

“As you say,” Thace murmured and not another word was spoken between them on their short walk back to the prince. 

Prince Keith waited for them, lounging against a wall, his bright, curious eyes on the Galra nobles gathered in the hall. He’d not seen most of them since he was a boy and the few he recognized he’d only glimpsed from a distance. Shiro bristled when he noticed how many of the Galra nobles watched the prince, their glowing, lecherous gazes following his every graceful move. He tamped down on the desire to bare his teeth at them. Gods, he wasn’t an animal, and the prince didn’t belong to him. At least, not yet. Shaking his head to clear his thoughts, Shiro approached Prince Keith. 

“We’re almost ready to leave, I think. Is there anything you’d like to take with us?” Shiro asked. 

Prince Keith looked up at him, worrying his bottom lip between his teeth. Shiro caught a glimpse of his sharp little canines and tried not to think about what they would feel like sinking into his skin. Gods, he really needed to get ahold of himself. 

“Yes,” the prince was saying. “Actually, I…I cannot leave without Red,” Keith spoke quietly, twisting his hands together. He doubted the human king would let him bring Red along, but he had to try. Red had been his only friend for a long time, he could not bear to leave without her. She would miss him too, he was sure of it.

The king cocked his head to the side inquisitively and asked, “Who is Red?” 

“She’s, well, it would be better to show you,” Keith hedged.

“Alright,” Shiro agreed easily. “Lead the way.”

“Follow me,” Keith muttered, turning on his heel and leading the king and his retinue down several halls. Prince Keith slowed down and hesitated in a hallway lined with portraits, chewing on his bottom lip again. A nervous tic, Shiro realized. He followed the prince’s gaze to a portrait of a beautiful young Galra woman. She wore an elegant gown and a bejeweled crown nestled in her braided black hair. Even though she wasn’t moving, Shiro could tell that she held herself with grace and her smile was genuine, her golden eyes were soft and kind. 

“Is that your mother?” Shiro guessed.

Prince Keith nodded. “Yes,” he said, his eyes never leaving the portrait.

“She’s lovely,” Shiro said. “You look just like her.”

“I…thank you,” Keith whispered. They remained silent for a while, staring up at the portrait of Keith’s mother together. After a time, Keith spoke again. For the first time his voice was soft, speaking to Shiro without any harshness in his tone. “After my mother was killed, my father grew even more distant. She was the common thread that held us together. He told me later that it was painful just to look at me, because all he could see was my mother.” 

“My father was terrible in many ways,” Keith continued quietly, “but he loved my mother, perhaps even more than I did. That’s why I could never bring myself to hate him.”

Shiro glanced at the prince at his side. He looked terribly sad, his inky dark hair falling into his golden eyes as he stared up at his mother’s portrait with a wistful look. For the first time, Shiro could see how one might mistake him for a delicate omega in need of protection. When Shiro looked at him now, he didn’t see the regal prince who commanded every room he entered, he saw only a sad, lonely young man who missed his mother and father. Shiro’s hand curled into a fist as his side and dropped his gaze. He could relate all too well to that aching loneliness of missing one’s parents. 

“Would you like to take it with us?” Shiro asked him, his voice gentle and quiet.

Keith finally looked away from the portrait to gaze up at Shiro in surprise. “You,” he hesitated, licked his lips, then started again. “You wouldn’t mind?” 

“No, I don’t mind at all.” King Takashi assured him, smiling gently. His coal dark eyes crinkled at the corners when he smiled like that and Keith found it oddly endearing. “You may hang it wherever you like. Keith,” he hesitated, then reached for the prince’s hand. He expected the omega to slap his hand away and glare at him reproachfully, but surprisingly, he allowed Shiro to take his hand gently in his own. Shiro moved very slowly and held his hand very delicately, hardly daring to breathe lest he ruin the moment. “I know this isn’t what you wanted, and I’m sorry for that, but if you’ll allow me, I’d like to make Terra your home too.” 

Prince Keith’s gaze fell onto his hand, the one Shiro held delicately in his palm. His long, dark lashes cast shadows on his blushing, lilac cheeks, his ears turned back slightly. “Ah, you do have a way with words. I wonder, do all humans have silver tongues, or is it just you?” he asked, gazing up at Shiro with genuine curiosity. Now it was Shiro’s turn to blush and stutter. 

“I, um, I wouldn’t know, your highness,” Shiro stumbled over his words before they died on his lips because the prince laughed, a real laugh, all bright and tinkling, nothing like the bitter laugh he’d heard earlier. It was a beautiful sound and Shiro wanted to make him do it again. 

“Perhaps,” the prince purred, his golden eyes twinkling with mischief, “we might find out together, then.” Shiro felt his face go hot and knew he must be red all the way up to the tips of his ears. Prince Keith laughed again and slipped his hand out of Shiro’s hold as he pulled away. Shiro instantly missed the warmth of his hand, the feeling of his soft palm, the hair on it so fine and soft it felt like velvet. 

The prince started walking away, leaving Shiro dazed behind him. “This way,” Prince Keith called carelessly over his shoulder. Shiro followed after him, his heart thudding in his chest. He knew, already, that he would follow his prince anywhere.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know Keith is giving Shiro (and everyone else) emotional whiplash but he can't help it, he's on an emotional roller coaster and the ride ain't over. 
> 
> Also, you better believe that silver tongue bit is going to become a running joke in this fic ;) 
> 
> Next chapter: Keith meets Lance. It goes about as well as you'd expect.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First of all, THANK YOU for all your kind comments and kudos, I can't believe this has already gotten over 500 kudos!! Your encouragement really inspires me to keep going, so thank you!!
> 
> This chapter is almost entirely backstory and completely Keith-centric but it's necessary to understand his motivations going forward and sets up some major plot points that are going to be relevant later. Next chapter will be back to the main cast!
> 
> Also I've updated the tags for fantasy racism (because what else do I call it???) and for graphic depictions of violence - I don't think there's anything too extreme in this chapter but just a heads up that it's there and it might get more graphic in later chapters.
> 
> One last thing - I listened to Lion by Hollywood Undead like a million times while writing this because it's pure angst fuel.

Keith was gifted Red on his tenth birthday. After tumbling out of bed and downstairs to breakfast, where his mother greeted him with a soft, “Happy birthday, my darling,” and a gentle kiss, his father announced that Keith’s gift was waiting for him in the courtyard. Keith shoved himself away from the grand table, leaving his breakfast half-finished in his rush to see what his father had given him. Keith’s parents trailed after him at a much slower pace. “Did you really have to tell him now, couldn’t it have waited until after breakfast?” he heard his mother say, sounding both exasperated and fond all at once, followed by his father’s chuckles. Keith flew into the courtyard first and then reeled to a stop, staring up in awe at the giant beast that blinked down at him. 

It most closely resembled a cat, Keith decided. It just didn’t look like any cat he’d ever seen before. For starters, it was even taller than his father and it had deep red fur, white at the chest and on its paws, white whiskers, and curious red eyes. It had a barrel chest, wide shoulders that tapered into a narrow waist, and stocky legs. When it moved, Keith could see the cat’s powerful muscles shifting beneath its hide and a short, stubby tail. 

“Whoa,” Keith breathed. His father barked out a laugh and clapped a hand on his shoulder. Keith’s mother gasped in shock. “Oh, dear, are you sure he’s ready for a robeast?” 

“He’ll be fine,” his father said flippantly. “Go on, boy, don’t be shy. She’s yours, after all,” he said, shoving Keith towards the giant cat. Turning back to his wife, Zarkon reassured her. “There’s no need to fret, she was made special for him. She’s been given his scent and she’s been trained to protect him.”

“Well, yes, but isn’t it a little early to start him on beasts of war?” 

“Nonsense! He’s a Zarkon, heir to the Empire! He’s got Marmora blood in his veins too. He’ll be as good with magic as he will be with a blade and he’ll strike terror into all of our foes when he rides his beast into battle!” His father chortled at the thought. 

Keith’s mother frowned. She did not care for the way her husband spoke of their son as if he were a weapon to be wielded against their enemies. She was well aware she’d been picked to be Zarkon’s bride for her bloodline, for the sole purpose of bearing him magically gifted children, but she couldn’t just stand by and watch as her only child was robbed of his innocence, everything good and pure in him snuffed out so he could be groomed into an instrument of war. If she could not temper Zarkon’s ambition, she could at the very least raise her son to be a kind and fair ruler. 

Meanwhile, Keith had approached the giant cat with tentative steps. Even though his father assured him the cat wouldn’t hurt him, he couldn’t help but feel intimidated. Still, Keith held out his hand, palm up in a friendly gesture. “H-hey there, I’m Keith,” he introduced himself as he carefully approached. The cat bent her head to sniff his hand and after a moment, nuzzled into his touch. Keith beamed and giggled when her whiskers tickled his arm.

“I think I’ll call you Red.” 

Red became Keith’s constant companion, shadowing him wherever he went. She followed him to his lessons, where she curled up in a corner and napped, and she went with him to sparring practice, where she paced the perimeter of the practice arena, watching him fretfully like a lioness looking after her own cub. At night, she laid next to Keith’s bed, just in reach, should Keith wake up from another nightmare and need her comfort to fall back asleep. 

Keith was learning to ride on Red’s back. He had to perfect his balance first before he could learn to wield a blade from her back. He was anxious to learn and even more anxious to please his father but he knew his mother disapproved. During Keith’s weekly magic lessons with his mother, she would gently remind him not to push himself too hard. 

“But I want to learn, Mother!” he said, frustrated by her coddling. “I have to get stronger!” 

“My dear, there is more to ruling than swinging a blade and there are many kinds of strength,” she sighed. 

“Oh, like what?” Keith challenged her. 

“There are all sorts of inner strengths, such as strength of will and the strength of one’s character. A strong heart and a strong mind are also important.” She placed a hand over his heart. “We draw our magic from a deep well inside of ourselves,” she murmured. “It isn’t a strength you can see, but you can feel it, can’t you?” Keith nodded solemnly. 

“Good,” she said with a warm smile. “Harnessing your magic will take time and patience. It requires great discipline and many years of practice.” She summoned a handful of purple flames and, using her nimble fingers, shaped it into the form of a tiny person. The flames crystalized, then turned to glass, and she set the figurine onto the desk in front of Keith, where it started dancing around the surface in perfect pirouettes. 

“Amazing,” Keith whispered. He was always in awe of his mother’s magic. As a descendant from the ancient and noble House of Marmora, she was one of the most skilled magic users in all of Galra.  
She settled a comforting hand on his shoulder, squeezing gently. “With time and practice, there will be nothing that you cannot do. There’s no need for you to grow up too fast, darling. That day will come sooner than you think and sooner than I would like,” she said sorrowfully. Keith glanced up, worried by her sad tone. 

“Mother?” 

She glanced down at him and her gaze locked with his. “One day, you’re going to rule Galra and I won’t be there to guide you,” she said, smiling sadly. “That’s why you must listen to what I have to say now.” 

“Mother,” Keith started to protest but she cut him off. 

“Just listen, Keith, please,” she said, gazing imploringly into his eyes. “A king should be the champion of his people,” his mother said. “He must be fair and magnanimous and he fights for those that are too weak to protect themselves. Keith,” she said, biting her lip, “promise me that you will be the kind of man who rules _for_ his people, not the kind who rules over them.” 

“I promise,” he said solemnly, “if you promise never to leave me.” 

She pulled him into a tight hug and her voice was shaky when she answered him. “Of course, my darling. I will always, always be with you.” 

That night, Keith’s nightmare, the one he’d been having for weeks, was more vivid than usual. Before, it had been little more than a blur of purples and reds and a feeling of terror that left him breathless and an agony so deep it made his heart ache. That night, it wasn’t much different, except for the addition of his mother’s face, twisted in pain and streaked with blood. 

Three days later, Keith’s nightmare became reality. 

* * *

It was an evening that started out like any other, with an extravagant feast held in the Great Hall to celebrate his father’s latest conquest. Keith was seated toward the end of the enormous black marble dinner table, between his mother and his uncle Thace. Keith spent the dinner pouting because his father had banished Red to the courtyard so as not to interfere with their important guests. He’d been so sullen that his father had ordered him to go to bed early and his mother had taken his hand and led him away. 

They were on their way to the royal wing of the castle when two tall, hooded figures dressed all in black appeared before them. They looked like shadows that had taken physical form, flickering and blurring around the edges even though they were perfectly still. Keith could feel their menacing aura even from where he was standing with his mother. Moving in perfect synchronization, both of the shadowy intruders drew a pair of curved, golden daggers from their backs. Keith’s mother grabbed his hand and drew him behind her. “Keith, run,” she whispered. 

The figures leapt towards them and his mother threw out her hand, summoning a circle of glimmering, purple blades that shot out towards their attackers. The blades glanced off the intruders, just before they hit, the air shimmering around them with a nearly undetectable distortion.

“Tsk,” his mother clicked her tongue irritably. With a wave of her hand, she summoned a wall of purple flames and sent them rushing towards the intruders. They dived through the flames, the air around them distorted again, and came out the other side unharmed. They darted forward, just steps away now. Keith’s mother growled and held her hand out at her side, the air around it sparking with purple flecks that swirled and grew like a dust mote that formed into an ancient sword, the insignia of House Marmora etched above its hilt. Keith stood in awe as he watched his mother raise the blade just in time to deflect the attacker’s blow, ancient runes etched into the blade of the sword lighting up with a purple glow as a wave of force emanated from the blade, pushing the attackers back. 

Keith was stunned. He’d never seen his mother fight, didn’t even know she could. She’d never been more fierce or beautiful, moving with grace and nimble steps, her black braid swinging as she wielded her sword, purple flames swirling around her. The hall around them echoed with the clang of weapons and the roar of his mother’s fire. She kept one of the attackers at bay with her sword and sent another burst of flames at the other. She glanced over her shoulder. “Run, Keith!” she shouted at him again. Keith shook his head, his eyes wide and fearful. He couldn’t run, he couldn’t leave his mother. 

It happened so fast, Keith barely glimpsed the flash of a golden blade before it slashed his mother across the chest. She cried out and stumbled, but did not fall. “Mother!” Keith screamed, lurching forward. 

“S-stay back, Keith,” she hissed through her teeth, holding out a shaking, bloody palm to keep him back. Her magic had lashed out instinctively to protect her; ropes of purple flame had burst through the stone floor and wrapped around her attacker, dragging him down with a muffled cry into the stone that seemed to swallow him whole. There was only one assassin left. They raised their golden daggers into a fighting stance, the light catching on their gleaming surface. Panting harshly, one hand clutching her side, Keith’s mother raised her sword, pointing it at the assassin. They lunged towards each other and the clang of weapons filled the hall again. 

Her movements were more sluggish, slower than they should have been. If only she hadn’t been wounded, Keith thought, she could have easily taken him on. As it was, she was barely keeping her attacker at bay, and he was pushing her back, step by step. 

“Keith,” his mother cried over the racket, “run! Find your uncle, I can hold him off!” 

Keith was torn. He didn’t want to leave, terrified that if he did, she wouldn’t be alive when he returned. But she was in a bad way, blood steadily dripping down her side and spreading across her skirts. If he didn’t fetch help now, they would both be killed. Gritting his teeth, his eyes filled with tears of frustration at his helplessness, he turned his back on her. And came face to face with a third assassin. 

Keith gasped and stumbled backwards, tripping over himself and falling onto his backside. This one was different than the others. Where the other assassins had been willowy and graceful, this one was a brute, a hulking, massive shadow with glowing yellow eyes. The shadow raised its broadsword, a huge hunk of black metal with wicked, jagged edges, over its head, preparing to strike. Just as Keith was about to be cleaved in two, he heard his mother shriek his name.

“ _KEITH!_ ” Her terrified scream blasted through the hall, amplified by her magic, the glass in the hall windows shattering into pieces that hung suspended in midair. The glass pieces shaped themselves into a spear that launched itself into his attacker’s chest, right where its heart should have been. The shadowy figure stumbled backwards a step with a grunt, but hardly seemed fazed, raising its sword again to strike. 

“ _NO!_ ” his mother screamed from behind him. Time seemed to slow down, though whether that was due to magic or fear, Keith would never know for sure. Keith stared up at the shadowy figure, his eyes wide as saucers with terror. He thought he saw the gleam of its teeth bared in a mad, bloodthirsty smile. Then the wall next to Keith exploded outwards, sending rubble flying everywhere, and Red was obscuring his view. 

Red leapt in front of him with a terrible roar, loud enough to shake the floor. Fearlessly, she took the hit meant for Keith, the blade slicing her open across the face. She didn’t even seem to register the blow as she lunged straight for Keith’s attacker. She knocked the shadow backwards, onto its back, where it barely held her at bay by shoving its sword sideways between her jaws. Red clenched her jaws around the blade, teeth screeching against the metal, preventing the shadow from shoving the sword through her mouth. Keith’s father and his uncle Thace appeared in the hole in the wall Red had made, followed by several guards, their weapons drawn. The shadow managed to shove Red off and dove out one of the open windows. 

“After him!” Zarkon roared, charging down the hall. The guards followed after him, quick to obey.  
Thace immediately went to his nephew’s side. “Keith, are you alright?!” he asked.

“I, I’m fine,” Keith replied. Pale as a sheet, he was trembling all over. “But mother,” he mumbled, whipping his head to stare back down the hall. His mother’s crumpled body lay on the floor, near the second assassin.

“Mother!” Keith screeched. He raced to her side, his uncle close behind him, and fell to his knees beside her. She was a mess, her dress torn and tattered and stained with blood. Her eyes fluttered open, just barely, and she smiled up at him. She tried to lift a shaking, bloody hand to his cheek. Keith caught her hand in his and held it tight. “Mother,” he sobbed.

“Keith,” she rasped, her voice wispy and faint, “thank goodness…you’re alright.” She coughed and her lips were stained with dark violet blood. Thace crouched down next to her and took her other hand. “Don’t speak, sister, save your strength,” he murmured. 

“Ha,” his mother laughed weakly. “You know…I don’t have long.”

“Don’t say that.” 

“Take…care of my boy. Promise…me,” she rasped. 

Thace bowed his head and closed his eyes. “I promise. I swear on my life, I’ll keep him safe,” he vowed.

“Thank you, brother,” she whispered. “Keith,” she turned her head to her weeping son, “my darling…dearest boy. I love…you. Never…forget that. I’ll always…be…be with…you,” she sighed and the light in her eyes dimmed and her hand went limp in Keith’s grasp. 

“N-no,” Keith whispered. “No, no, no, Mother! Mother!” He shrieked and shook her, her head lolling lifelessly to the side. “Mother,” he sobbed brokenly, clinging to her body, his shoulders shaking with the force of his sobs. 

Keith hadn’t heard the sound of boots approaching but he heard his father when he spoke. “So she’s gone then?” he asked, his voice uncharacteristically quiet. 

“Yes,” Thace answered solemnly. “Did you catch him?”

“Got away somehow, don’t know how he survived the fall,” his father answered. “He won’t get far though,” he promised, venom thick in his voice. He loomed over the body of the dying assassin. He unsheathed his broadsword and held it above the assassin’s head like a macabre pendulum. 

“Queen Allura sends her regards,” the assassin rasped. Zarkon drove his broadsword through the assassin’s skull. “Altean scum,” he muttered, withdrawing his sword with a sickening squelch. 

Zarkon glanced over his shoulder to his son, trembling over his mother’s body. “Get him out of here,” he ordered Thace, nodding at his son. 

“Yes, your grace,” Thace said quietly. He tried to pull Keith away from his mother, but he struggled against him, biting, kicking, and scratching, screaming for his mother. Finally, he had to throw Keith over his shoulder and he carried him away. Before they left the hall, Keith caught a glimpse of his father, crouched down next to his mother, his head bowed and a hand on her cheek. 

Red prowled after them, growling, her head turning side to side, on the lookout for threats. Keith continued to flail and scream, all the way to his room in the royal wing. Once they were in Keith’s bedchambers, Thace set him down but he didn’t let go. Instead, he wrapped his arms around Keith and held him tight. Keith struggled for a second longer until he sagged against him, buried his face in his tunic and sobbed. Thace held him until he could no longer stand upright. At last, Thace picked him up and set Keith onto his bed. Keith curled in on himself and stared blankly at his knees, his eyes puffy from crying. Thace drew the blankets around his shoulders and gently implored him to sleep. Keith, exhausted and numb, did just that. 

He woke, in the middle of the night, and found his uncle Thace sleeping in an armchair he’d dragged to Keith’s bedside, his sword laid across his knees. Red lay between his uncle and the bed. Sensing that Keith was awake, she laid her head on the edge of Keith’s bed. He reached out and tangled his fingers in her soft fur. Keith closed his eyes and fell back into a dreamless sleep.

* * *

In the days that followed, Keith was kept confined to his room, for his own protection, as his father rooted out the rest of the spies that had infiltrated the castle. It wouldn’t be until much later that Keith would learn of the horrific punishments his father meted out to the Altean shapeshifters that were caught. At the time, he knew nothing and preferred it that way. It was all the same to him, the days passing by in a numb fog that dulled the pain in his heart. His uncle Thace kept watch over him and Red was ever at his side, but Keith largely ignored them, either curled up in his bed or staring listlessly at the stone walls of his room, utterly silent.

It broke Thace’s heart to see his nephew, once so full of life, so listless. Keith hardly touched his meals and laid awake at night. When he did sleep, he woke screaming from nightmares filled with dark shadows with yellow eyes. 

At last, his father appeared in his room. “Get up boy, it’s time for the funeral,” he said gruffly. Keith got up without a word, let himself be dressed, and followed his father silently through the halls. They avoided the hall where his mother had been slain. 

Keith and his father arrived in the courtyard filled with somber, silent guests. The nobles of the Court and almost the entirety of House Marmora had come to pay their respects to their beloved Empress one last time. Keith’s mother was still and silent, laid upon a funeral pyre. The funeral rites went by in a blur that Keith barely followed and after his father and uncle had said their piece, they lit the pyre. 

Keith felt his father’s hand, heavy on his shoulder, his vision blurring with tears as he watched his mother’s body burn to ash and drift away in the wind. 

“I…I want to make them pay,” Keith said quietly, his small shoulders shaking with rage, “for what they did to mother.” 

“We’ll kill them all, Keith,” his father growled, his sharp nails digging harshly into Keith’s shoulder. “Do as I say and I’ll make you strong enough to get your revenge. Together, we’ll wipe the Altean scum from this world.” 

“Yes, father,” Keith replied tonelessly, biting down on his bottom lip to keep it from trembling, his teeth sinking into the tender flesh hard enough to draw blood. Keith closed his eyes and the last of his silent tears slipped down his cheeks.

* * *

“Get your arm up, boy!” his father roared from the sidelines of the training arena.

Keith grit his teeth and did as he was told, raising his sword higher to take the brunt of the blow Sendak aimed at him. Sendak was bigger and older than him by a number of years but his father’s training was never fair. Despite being the heir apparent, Keith wasn’t given special treatment. If anything, he was pushed harder and longer than any of the others. Keith saw it as a challenge and rose to meet it, throwing himself into his studies of military tactics and training with both the blade and his magic, desperate to prove himself. The other young nobles that trained with Keith were given strict instructions to spar with him at full force. Sendak especially seemed to enjoy giving Keith a good thrashing. Keith usually limped away from their matches, bruised and bitter about his defeat, and straight into a lecture from his father.

“You’re weak,” Sendak taunted him as he brought his sword down against Keith’s again, the clang of clashing steel echoing through the courtyard. Keith pointedly rolled his eyes. He was used to Sendak’s unimaginative taunts. “Not as weak as your insults,” Keith shot back, spinning out of the way of Sendak’s next strike. 

Sendak had the size advantage but Keith was faster and more flexible. After nearly three years of intense training, Keith was getting better, but he was still small for his age, especially for an alpha. He could still win though, as long as he kept his opponents on their toes and wore them down by constantly dodging their attacks, until they became tired and clumsy, or in Sendak’s case, made hasty due to his anger. 

Sendak’s eyes flashed dangerously. “So rude and when I’m only trying to help,” Sendak simpered. Keith laughed in his face. The day Sendak tried to help him would be the day the sun rose over Galra. Keith said as much as he shoved Sendak back. “Such awful manners, whatever would your mother say?” Sendak hissed, his blade at the ready. 

Keith stiffened up and Sendak grinned viciously. Everyone knew that Keith was sensitive about his mother’s death. All Sendak had to do was mention her and Keith was liable to go spiraling into a rage. He should have been used to it by now, but it seemed that this particular wound was one that would never heal, and anyone who picked at it would incur Keith’s wrath. 

“What did you say?” Keith growled, his eyes narrowed to angry little slits.

“I’m saying your weakness is what got your mother killed. She died protecting you, a sniveling coward who couldn’t be bothered to lift a blade even to save his own mother. Clearly her sacrifice was in vain, if this is all you’ve got,” Sendak sneered.

Screaming in fury, purple flames erupted in Keith’s free hand and engulfed his entire left arm. Keith hurled a ball of fire at him. Sendak shrieked when it hit, igniting half his face. He raised his arm up to protect himself but Keith brought his sword down on him, again and again, hacking at his arm until it was barely hanging from his shoulder in bloody tatters and still, even between both their screams, Keith could hear his father’s raucous laughter. 

_“That’s it! That’s it, my boy!”_

* * * 

“Keith,” his uncle said, “I have been worried about you for some time. I thought all you needed was time to grieve, but this incident with Sendak…” 

Keith turned away, scowling. “He deserved it,” he growled, “for the things he said about mother,” he spit out, feeling his hackles raise all over again. Just remembering Sendak’s words was enough to get him seething again. A nearby glass vase shattered. 

“Breathe, Keith, in and out, just like we practiced,” Thace instructed. 

Keith sucked in a harsh breath and held it for three counts before slowly releasing it. 

“Good, now keep it up. Close your eyes and center yourself,” his uncle said patiently. He guided Keith through their meditation routine, hoping that it would calm him enough to get his magic back under control. Like all young mages, Keith was prone to small accidents and outbursts of uncontrolled magic when he experienced extreme emotions, but this marked the first time that Keith had surrendered entirely to its influence. Thace was most concerned about his attitude after the fact – he showed no remorse and no desire to reign in his emotions. 

Of course, this was exactly what Zarkon wanted. He filled Keith’s mind with hate, twisted his grief into a sharp knife point that he could use against others. Three years, Thace had had to sit silently and watch as Zarkon cultivated the pain in Keith, pain that Keith now seemed determined to inflict on others. If it hadn’t been for the fact that Thace was the last direct descendant of House Marmora besides his nephew, Zarkon surely would have kept him from Keith entirely, but if there was one thing they both agreed on, it was that Keith needed a magic tutor. 

Thace could not do much in the short amount of time in their sessions, but he would be damned if he broke his vow to his sister. If Zarkon had his way, Keith would be driven mad after losing complete control of his magic. The fool didn’t understand that pushing Keith like this would turn him into a rabid dog, incapable of distinguishing friend from foe. He’d be just as likely to burn himself alive as he would be their enemies. 

“Keith,” Thace said patiently. “You must practice restraint. You know how dangerous it is to let your magic consume you. If you are not careful, it will corrupt your heart.”

“I know,” Keith grumbled, still not meeting his eyes.

“If you know better, then act like it,” Thace growled. Keith’s eyes flickered up to meet his for the first time as he bared his teeth in defiance, ears flattened back against his head. “Control yourself, kit,” Thace snarled in warning, his eyes flashing as he bared his teeth right back. “Your grief has turned to hate and I will not sit by and watch as it consumes you. Your mother never wanted this for you.” 

“You wouldn’t know what my mother wanted, seeing as how she’s dead!” Keith shouted, jumping to his feet, the stained glass windows behind Thace rattling dangerously, a spider web crack spreading across the panes. 

Thace got to his feet too. “I know she didn’t die so you could throw your life away!” he shouted.  
Keith reeled back as if he’d been struck, his eyes wide with shock. 

“Your mother gave her life to protect you. She would want you to live, to grow up and be happy. Do not repay her sacrifice by wasting your life on hatred and revenge. Down that path only misery and death awaits, and no matter how many Alteans you kill, it will not bring her back,” Thace said stonily. 

Keith hung his head, his dark hair falling across his face, hiding his expression. “What else can I do?” he whispered. “Sendak…was right. If I had picked up a blade, if I had used my magic, I could have saved her. Instead, I trembled in fear and hid behind my mother like a coward. She died because of me.”

Thace thought if it was possible for a heart to break, his would have in that moment. He approached his nephew and pulled him into his arms. “Is that what you think?” Thace whispered against Keith’s hair. Keith trembled and squeezed his eyes shut, burying his face against his uncle’s chest. His embrace was the closest he’d felt to his mother’s for years. 

“Keith, it wasn’t your fault,” he said softly. Keith shook his head vigorously, trying to deny his uncle’s words. “It wasn’t your fault,” his uncle whispered again and Keith finally broke, sobbing against his chest. “You were a child, you didn’t know how to protect yourself, let alone your mother,” Thace spoke quietly as he ran his hand soothingly through Keith’s hair, just as his mother used to when he was a child. “No one blames you for what happened, least of all your mother. The only thing that mattered to her was keeping you safe. You’re alive and well, that’s all she ever wanted.” 

“We’re kin, kit. I’ll never stop loving you and I’ll always protect you. I miss her too, Keith, more than I let on. She was my twin, after all. We don’t have to stop thinking about her or missing her, but we cannot let the wound of her passing fester forever. It is time to let it go. She would want us to carry on, no matter how difficult it might seem.”

* * *

Less than a week after Keith’s outburst and the talk with his uncle that followed, Keith discovered just why he’d been so volatile for the past few weeks – he had been on the cusp of presenting. When he awoke from his first heat, he was badly shaken. He knew that for anyone else, this would spell disaster, the end of his right to rule. But he was Zarkon’s only child, his heir, surely he would not cast Keith aside like a common omega? 

With a pounding heart, Keith got up and took a bath, scrubbing at his skin until it was raw and the scent of omega was nearly washed away. He dressed and went down to the courtyard, grabbed his sword, and entered the training arena. 

“What do you think you’re doing?” he heard his father snarl behind him. Keith nearly jumped out of his skin and turned around slowly.

“I, I’m here for sparring practice, father,” Keith stammered, his heart hammering in his chest. He quailed under the force of his father’s furious glare and the stench of enraged alpha rolling off of him in veritable waves. Now that he was newly presented, Keith was incredibly sensitive to scents and his father’s was overpowering, laced with fury and dominance. 

Zarkon pulled the sword from Keith’s grip and tossed it aside. “Get out of my sight,” he growled. Keith felt his knees shake, nearly buckling under the force of his father’s anger and the desire to submit.

“B-but, Father!” Keith protested. “What about the Alteans, our revenge?!” 

“You truly think I would waste my time training a weakling like you?” his father hissed. “I should have known what you are, you’ve always been small, weak.” Keith sucked in a harsh breath. He felt as though he’d been slapped. “I thought you simply hadn’t hit your growth spurt but I was wrong,” his father continued. “What a fool I’ve been,” he laughed bitterly. 

“Father, I can still fight, this doesn’t have to change anything!” Keith cried.

His father’s hand came down across his face, hard enough to leave Keith’s ears ringing. “ _Insolent whelp!_ ” he roared. “I wish it was you that had been killed instead of your mother!” he screamed. “At least then she could have given me a son worthy of the name!” 

Keith made a broken little sound, tears welling in his eyes and spilling down his cheeks as he cradled the side of his face that was stinging, the imprint of his father’s palm darkening across his skin. 

His father turned his back on Keith. “Go. Just…get out of my sight before I run you through with my sword myself.” 

Keith paused in the doorway, his shoulders shaking as he forced back his tears. “I’m still going to slaughter every last Altean. For mother,” he choke out into the silence, before darting away. 

* * *

As Keith turned his back on the portrait of his mother and the human king, the memories of his childhood played in the back of his mind. The playful smile died on his lips and his hands curled into claws. 

He might have been cornered and forced into this marriage, but Keith was a brilliant tactician with a sharp mind and growing up in his father’s shadow had taught him how to turn any situation to his advantage. Right now, Keith was quickly calculating how he could use this opportunity to achieve his goals. If the human king was to be believed, Keith would maintain control of Galra, though just how much control he had was yet to be determined. Keith filed the thought away for later. More importantly, he’d have access to the Altean queen. With the peace summit and his wedding, he had at least two opportunities to get close to her, perhaps more depending on how many more political summits they would both attend. 

It was the perfect opportunity for his revenge. The thought made his lips twitch up into a vicious smirk. No matter what his uncle said, Keith had not forgotten what the Alteans had done to his mother and he was far from forgiving them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope ya'll noticed that easter egg/foreshadowing from Keith's mom about "the _king_ being the _champion_ of his people" hohoho
> 
> I know I promised to introduce Lance this chapter but it was already getting so long and I felt like I should break it off here. Don't worry though, he will be in the next chapter! I've already gotten part of it written, so hopefully I'll be able to keep up the semi regular updates!

**Author's Note:**

> lmao Shiro wyd


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